Friday, May 9, 2014

Ganymede, a short story (part 2)

This is just a short story, not related to one of my novellas. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Warning: Homosexual sex, a threesome, and rape. All explicit.

Ganymede, snatched away
            “I told you to stay home, Ganymede.” His calm and soothing voice was in complete opposition to the appearance of pure wrath upon his features. His deeply furrowed brow was dark with crimson flushing, his eyes harsh, pupils dilated, the line of his mouth straight and lined. If I hadn’t known him so well, I would have feared my own death was again at hand; not drowned, but scorched.

            Zeus’ hand rested atop mine. Lazily, his index finger moved around and around in an erotic caress in the center of my palm. “Not an option. My brother…” I dropped my gaze from his, then, and took a look at my surroundings. I was in a big, dome-roofed room, very clean and clear of clutter, on a simple cot. A handful of other cots lay empty in the same room. Against the far wall, floor to ceiling windows were open to the fresh air. A single oil lamp and small wooden table sat next to my cot.
            “Ah, yes, that fool Ilus. His vanity will destroy a kingdom.” For an instant, his wrath amplified, and then just as quickly receded. In fact, his entire demeanor changed, lightening. Seeing my frown, my obvious confusion and a little fear, he turned to the archway on my left.
            “Didn’t I tell you to let him rest, father?” I sat up to see the most handsome young man entering. He had nearly white-blond hair perfectly coiffed to look easy and elegant, his shoulder-length curls the envy of many Trojan women, a simple yet incredibly sheer tunic showed off his golden-tanned chest belted with what appeared to be spun gold, and a smile both welcoming and scheming. “If he’s to recover fully, he needs sleep.”
            “Yes, my son,” Zeus said, turning to me, “Ganymede, meet Apollo. Apollo is the best doctor we have in residence. Though, I dare say, his son’s bedside manner is much better.” Apollo stepped closer. He smelled as good as he looked, like amber and musk, with a hint of sunshine.
            Placing a manicured, soft, feminine hand on my throat, his deft fingers seeking out my pulse, the god of medicine added, “My son learned everything he knows from me. Father is just upset he was too busy to come immediately when his lord beckoned him.” Quieting, I watched his facial expressions fade to complete absence. As the silence stretched on, I got nervous. About to speak, to fill the stillness, I caught sight of Zeus’ slight shake of his head.
            “You’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.”
            Apollo turned to Zeus and bowed. His footsteps died away in the hall before I dared to attempt speech. “What...?”
            “He was listening to life’s song in your blood. As I said, his bedside manner needs improvement. He tends to act without thought. Never was my favorite child, actually. Always seemed a little out there, a little too odd.” Zeus chuckled. “More so than most of us gods, I should amend.” I only smiled at this sign of my lord’s humanity. Lying back on the cot, I sighed deeply.
            The room filled with silence, both of us lost in thought enjoying the easy lapse in our conversation. Like old friends, I imagined, then corrected. Like an old married couple. This new revelation shook me – a slight tremble raising goosebumps on my exposed skin. Zeus noticed and moved to pull the woolen blanket higher over my bare shoulders.
            “What is-“
            “I knew you had to be wondering that,” he interrupted me. “Of course, anyone in your position would be. I’ve been trying to figure out how best to put this to you without scaring you entirely.” He looked down at me. I’ve seen his face with many emotions playing across it, but I had never seen Zeus like this. He looked self-effacingly giddy, like a child about to receive a wish they have waited their whole lives for, but too scared to hope for lest it never happen.
            “I sent your father a gift yesterday. Four magnificent pure white stallions from the Olympian stables. Swifter than mortal horses and longer-lived by far. He was very happy to receive them; beaming so fully, I thought his teeth might fall out.”
            “To pay him for you.” Zeus undoubtedly saw my slack-jawed bewilderment, but ignored it. He kept his face turned down, eyes away from my searching ones, and hands in his lap. His voice was low, loud enough for me alone to hear. “You were going to drown, my boy. The world has never seen as handsome a man as you. It will never see another. Poets, though, will try to find others and compare them to you, but all those other men will sadly fall too short of your perfection. I couldn’t let you die. The eagle who lifted you from the wreckage was me. I hated to hurt you...” He turned then, to look at me, raising a calloused, heavy hand to my shoulder. My gaze followed the movement and I looked down to see a healed wound, a small puckered scar. “It adds to your beauty, boy. A small imperfection, which highlights the otherwise purity of your soft, youthful skin.” To prove his point, Zeus lowered his mouth, ever so seductively, to the scar, and licked it gently before kissing it fully. I felt passion bloom and my cock stir. Dropping his hand from my shoulder, he trailed it down across a nipple, my chest, to my hip, and then my rousing cock. A swift caress and he pulled away.
            “Not yet. Soon, though, I think. Apollo was right. You need rest.”
            “I’ll return tomorrow morning.”
            The rest of the day passed slowly. I saw no one else. Heard nothing at all. No footsteps from slaves darting about on their business, so common a sound in my life before that now, without it, I felt homesick. Tears began to fall, unbidden yet welcome, and I cried myself to sleep multiple times as the rays of the sun slid across the bare floor of the room. Darkness fell absolute. The tranquility and isolation passed. Come morning, it was all I could do not to scream out until I was hoarse just to fill the overwhelming quietness.
            My hands were shaking and my skin was flushed, my tunic and the bedclothes damp with sweat, by the time Apollo entered the sparse room. He carried a silver tray heaped with fresh fruits, lightly honeyed wine, and a still warm chunk of hearty bread. “Demeter sends her well-wishes,” he said, that same beaming smirk upon his face, as he balanced the tray on the edge of the cot. Though the food looked absolutely divine, my stomach was so tied up from the night’s inner turmoil I couldn’t fathom the thought of eating. “I’ve been told he’s already on his way.” I must have looked shocked, for Apollo toned down his smirk and I saw pity in his eyes. “Whatever he tells you, remember, you still have a choice.”
            “A choice about what?”
            “He would surely find a way to bind me in the pits of Tartarus alongside my grandfather if I were to interfere more, but…”
            “You are right, you know,” Zeus’ rumbling voice startled us both. Our conspiratorial surprise might have passed unnoticed if the breakfast tray hadn’t clattered to the marble floor with a resounding, accusatory, echo at that exact moment. Apollo lowered his eyes in deference while I chose to take the moment and watch some imagined bird soar through the clouds outside the window. “So, have you actually gotten around to checking his life’s song this morning or not?”
            “Yes, father.” He pressed his fingertip to my throat and the room fell into stillness as we all waited. A thousand breaths later he caressed my throat as he withdrew and nodded. “You are completely healed, Ganymede.” Then, as Zeus’ gaze moved from his son’s face to mine, I saw as Apollo mouthed, remember, before leaving us alone.
            With the swoosh of Apollo’s tunic against the edge of arched doorway, as he slipped past it and into the hall, Zeus opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. I just stared at him. He seemed a completely different man from the one I knew in Troy. In Troy, he was all confidence and power barely held in check. Here, he was almost human. I wasn’t sure I liked this side of him. It scared me. I wanted him to be the god all mighty I had been forced to surrender to, the one to whom I had given my heart and soul. He lowered his eyes, opened his mouth again only again to close it, then raised his gaze to me and laughed. A deep, hearty, thunderous guffaw.
            I hesitated to smile at his obvious bewilderment. “Zeus, my lord, tell me…”
            “So direct. Well, fine,” he began, the mirth in his voice easing into a slightly desolate tone, “I offered the horses to your father, boy, in payment for your mortality. The sisters have already cut your string, you see. It is only with a promise that you still breathe.”
            A deep, harsh, held breath, perhaps my last, escaped my tight throat.
            “I would like you to serve Olympus, this palace, as our attendant, Ganymede. It will be your duty to do my bidding, serve me as I request, and wait upon the other gods and goddesses. You, too, will stand among us, as an immortal.”
            “I need you to accept, Ganymede. I need you to live, here, with me,” fear clouded the forming tear at the inner corner of his dark brown eye. “Please?”
            There was no doubt in my answer. I could not be the cause of such fear in my lover’s eye. Never.


Dressed in the deep red of royalty, I felt overdone and foolish as I entered the grand room. Gold vines, decorated with etched grape clusters, clasped my upper arms, while a simple gold diadem sat nestled in my oiled curls. The room itself simply glowed with gold, ivory, and silver. Everywhere I cast my gaze, I was nearly blinded by the sheen of wealth. The gods and goddess, now my equals, reclined about the enormous room, in small groups, chatting and snacking on the fresh fruit, honeyed nuts, and petite pastries which sat on ornately carved marble tables, inlaid with ivory scenes from the beginning of creation. So overwhelmed, I stood frozen in the entry. In comparison, I was humbly clothed and adorned, a poor man’s god. I did not belong here.
            “Ah, come Ganymede!” Zeus’ voice commanded everyone’s attention and the conversations echoed to silence. All eyes swiveled to me. “Hebe, bring in the goblets and wine.” A young goddess from the far end of the room shifted on her feet, turned to a silent, surprisingly well-groomed, satyr and was handed two goblets, fitting for the banquet hall, and a bowl of wine. She seemed to float over the floor as she all but ran to stand before her lord, head bowed, slightly curtsying.
            “My lord.”
            “Hebe, your duties as the divine cup bearer are finished.” I noticed the quick upward flick of her eyes and slight clamping of her bottom lip between her teeth at his words. My heart seized for her. “You may now join your husband as his divine consort and serve humankind as protector of youths.”
            “Lord?” Hebe was shaking so hard, I feared for the wine, but Zeus seemed to hardly notice.
            “Yes, daughter? Do you disagree-“ He stopped his words, not needing to tease her any longer. She was already spinning about looking for somewhere to place the goblets and wine she held. “Hand them to Ganymede, Hebe.” The smile behind his words filled both her heart and mine with such warmth, we both turned comparable shades of deep pink. She spotted me at the same moment I stepped forward, entering the hall completely. I had to juggle the goblets and wine as soon as she thrust them at me as Zeus’ words chased her from the banquet. “Hercules is waiting for you in your rooms!”
            It took an act of nearly Herculean, a doubly blessed god – first to earn immortality after his mortal death and now Hebe as wife -, effort to finally settle my nerves and the sloshing wine enough to stand composed before Zeus in the exact location I had noted Hebe wait. With a deep and hesitantly shaking breath, I repeated her words, “My lord.”
            “Hand the king’s goblet to me first, then the queen’s to Hera.” After guessing at the designation of what I perceived as identical goblets, I followed Zeus’ quiet directions to me. I must have guessed correctly or perhaps it was my new role, which allowed me this intimate knowledge of goblet design, but neither Zeus nor Hera gave the goblets a second look. “Now, fill our goblets with the spiced wine.” I did. “Perfect. You are to fill each god’s goblet throughout the night before they empty. You will only serve our goblets, though, each evening at the start of the first course. “Pan,” and here Zeus flicked his wrist back toward the satyr I had noticed earlier, “will keep the wine perfectly spiced and honeyed and the bowl you carry full. These are your duties as cupbearer to the gods. Do you accept these responsibilities?”
            “My lord, I do.”
            The rest of the evening passed quickly. I knew, without reason, when the goblets in the room were nearing emptiness and found myself at the god or goddess’ side delicately pouring the wine. Pan, though he hardly spoke, seemed a nice enough fellow. However, I did catch the satyr sneaking a few sips here and there of the wine he prepared. Once, upon catching my eye from across the room as he stole a drink, he mouthed, “taste test.” I only smiled. Who was I to question the workings of this foreign kingdom? Hebe and Hercules arrived close to the end of the second course looking particularly happy and decidedly in love. Aphrodite was the first to greet them, giving both a full body hug and gentle kiss. She then grabbed the couples’ hands and trotted them like prized ponies through the hall. Neither seemed to mind, they eagerly accepted the well wishes of their friends. Aphrodite even dragged them over to me and Pan so we could offer our own cheers for their happy futures. I felt welcomed among the gods and satisfied in my change of fortunes.
            When at last the banquet was over and the gods began to file past Zeus and Hera, thanking them for the evening, I fell in step behind Hebe and Hercules and in front of Pan.
            “You’ve done well, Ganymede. Welcome to Olympus. Pan,” Zeus turned to the satyr, still well-groomed, but swaying a bit, and smirked, “will you show him to Hebe’s room? If I understood Hercules correctly, it has been cleaned and readied for Ganymede to take ownership.” Summarily dismissed, Pan stepped around me and led me from the room. Sadness fell upon me and weariness snuck into my body. I was just another of his gods now. Nothing special about me.
            Leaving me standing at the entry to my new room, Pan shuffled off down the long columnated hallway to disappear into his room in the infinite palace, while I stared off into nothingness. I was sure, from our conversations back in Troy and this morning that I was special to him. Now, as a god on Olympus, I seemed to be nothing more or less to him than Hebe or Pan. Just a lower god to serve him. A tragic ending. The sound of my heart breaking was a sob of pure pain and anger. Falling to my knees on the marble floor, I clutched my head and wailed. The cry echoed away in the vast emptiness of Zeus’ palace as the final piece of my heart and soul cracked and broke free. Tears streaked my cheeks, ruddying my beautiful face. I needed to find him, to ask where I went wrong…
            I ran as though driven by an outside force, unconsciously following my heart to the one who so completely destroyed it. I heard her ranting long before I found myself at their door.
“…think he’s one of us…”
            “…common whore…”
            “…a plaything, playing god…”
            “…believe it’s an honor?...”
            “…flaunt your newest toy in my face,” Hera’s voice squawked and broke with intense emotion. I crouched beside the heavy wooden, intricately carved door – a sensuous artistic representation of a lightning bolt mating with a peacock feather – and listened to the shrieking queen. Her rampage included more than words, for each insult to my being and existence was followed by a crash of glass against the walls and floor. The stories circulated down on earth weren’t far off the truth; she was the pure embodiment of jealousy. Her voice and tantrums, no less so.
            Listening, waiting, I wanted to overhear Zeus support me. When, at last, silence ruled the room and I still hadn’t heard a word of defense, I knew I was right. I was nothing to him now. The journey back to my room was the longest of my now endless life.


My back was to her, when I heard her footsteps in the corridor outside my curtained door. Looking out the latticed window, seeing clouds stretch off as far as I could see; everything was beyond imagination. The muted colors of the deep blue ocean and green and gold earth appeared randomly, almost mockingly.
Gliding aside the thickly woven curtain, her voice was soft and sugary with hypocrisy, “Settling in comfortably?”
“Comfortably, enough, my queen. Trying to get used to the view.” I added to myself, “and to the fact that your lord and husband is yours and not mine anymore.”
She stepped fully into the room, crossing it with purpose, and reached out to gently tap my shoulder. “Some views are easier than others, yes?” She lowered her caress from my shoulder down my upper arm, to rest in the crook of my elbow. Her grip tightened there and she pulled slightly to turn me towards her. My eyes first went to her face. She was no longer a young woman, but her skin was still smooth and clear of wrinkles. It was the tone of a pale, unripe olive. Not dark, but not light either. Unique to her own beauty. Her eyes, some color between grey and hazel. They sparkled with specks of gold. Her mass of dark, slightly wavy, hair was bound in a tower on top of her head; woven and effortlessly, gracefully tangled with wisps breaking free at her high forehead, behind her ears, and along the nape of her neck. She looked older, wiser, and carefree. Her lips were red and plump, colored by the juice of the pomegranate wine I had served her earlier in the evening.
As my gaze took all of this in, it dropped to see she wore nothing like her regal gown and robes from the feast – all lush, heavy, boldly dyed fabric – and, in its place, was now wearing a sheer, silk chiton, open and airy. The neckline gaped, gathered in front, low on her chest. Her hand traced a sensuous line from tucking a curl behind her ear down along her cheek and chin, across her throat, traced her collarbone, and between the rises of her breasts. My eyes followed. She noticed and smiled seductively.
“Do you like what you see?”
“Queen, I am Zeus’…” Or, at least I was.
“It will be just between us. A secret. Zeus won’t have to know.” Hera dropped to her knees before me. Trying to step away, to put distance between us, I struggled to think of something to say to let her know I didn’t want to do this but without offending her. I couldn’t do this after what I heard her say about me. Her wrath was not to be taken lightly. My eyes darted around the room, looking for inspiration, anything to help. Instead, I caught movement near the curtain. Zeus parted the curtain slightly, when he realized I saw him, his finger lifted before his lips.
“Hera…” Zeus shook his head at me. Hera’s gaze rose to meet mine, while mine was already dropping at his motion to meet hers.
“Don’t worry.” Hera’s hands on my hips, moved lower, slipping under the edge of my tunic. Her smile was wide, though not warm. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing on earth. A goddess is so much better than those mortals.” She lifted my tunic all the way up to rest it on my hips, putting her hands back where she had them before. Zeus nodded. My heart rate picked up. My breathing quickened.
Leaving her hands on my hips, still holding my tunic, bunched up under her slender fingers, the queen of the gods leaned forward capturing just the tip of my cock between her rouged lips. I was already semi-hard, not so much because of her ministrations or beauty, but because I could see Zeus’ pupils darken with lust and his breath hitch in his throat as he watched his wife begin to work upon me. She started slowly, her tongue working like magic stroking first the underside, then caressing up to sweep along the veined sides of my quickly swelling cock. My hands dropped of their own accord, to grasp her hair and hold her steady as she began to rock back and forth, ever so slightly. My cock was now at its fullest length and width, filling her warm, moist mouth completely. Her cheeks bulged with the effort to keep me deep inside. She sucked hard as I surged forward down her throat then sat back, letting me come nearly free, only to keep my head pinned for a moment as she flicked the tip of her tongue at my slit. Hera kept the pace slow, though I rotated my hips dramatically to encourage more haste.
Zeus had stepped completely into the room, not yet entering it proper, but standing off to the side of the entrance. The curtain swayed gracefully back into place. Having him so close, but unable to touch him, feel him deep, made me shiver with expectation. Not the least helped by having his wife on the floor before me.
I popped free of her mouth, bringing my attention back to her in an instant. “I want you inside me.”
“I already am.” I couldn’t help the hint of amusement in my voice. She was too obviously trying to get me in trouble with her husband, yet completely unaware of his presence. “At least, I was.” I placed one hand on my spit slickened cock and the other on the back of her head. I grinned at her, suggestively.
“It wasn’t a suggestion, boy. It was a command. You had better learn the difference quickly. Here on Olympus, we give commands.” Hera’s voice was stern, all traces of the earlier false sweetness gone. She stood, letting my tunic fall back into place, though tented over my erect cock. Reaching up to her shoulders, first the right side, then the left, she opened the gold clasps of her chiton, letting it fall directly to the floor. A puddle of silk. She didn’t demur or shy away as her body was displayed to me, a perfect, mature, regal nude. Nor, did she hesitate to grab my own tunic and lift it hurriedly from my thin and feminine frame.
Sashaying to the bed, piled high with pillows, silks, and velvets, she laid down spreading both her arms and legs wide. “Come to me.”
With a quick nod and a smirk from the corner of my vision, I advanced upon her. Kneeling between her legs, I placed my hands on her ankles, keeping my gaze locked on hers. I ran my hands up her calves, lessening the pressure from my full palm to the tickle of my fingertips as I stroked over and under her knees and along the thin, highly sensitized skin of her inner thigh. Her entire body shuddered and I could see moisture gathering at the apex of her long legs. I crawled forward, positioning the head of my steel rod against her inner opening. Crouching, I fitted my arms under her legs and lifted her slightly, tipping her pelvis up, allowing me an unfettered slide fully, deeply into her womb with one strong thrust. Her moan was music to my ears, so similar to her husband’s. My thrusts were slow and deep. Her hips lifted and met mine with each push forward, her back arching as I filled her.
“My queen?”
Hera’s head fell to the side at the sound of her title on her husband’s lips. “My king, help me!” At once, her hands, which had been gripping my shoulders, slid to my chest and shoved at my weight. Her knees bent further toward her stomach and she shimmied her legs through the cradle of my elbows and placed her feet in position to propel me off her entirely. She struggled to close her thighs, too. All this done in the split of a second as her words simultaneously registered in my ears. “He’s raping me!”
I froze. My gods, she… I knew it had been a trick; the jealous whore!
Zeus strode from the shadows beside the doorway. Hera dropped one hand from my chest and reached out to her husband. “Gany-“
“Quiet!” The command was merciless but scarcely a whisper. My lord advanced on us, in media coitus. His eyes wandered along our naked, intertwined limbs with such zeal, I felt my cock swell and jump in response. Hera’s own body also responded; her nipples peaked, her womb clutched tighter, and moisture escaped unbidden. I ground my teeth at the sensation and tried not to move my hips. “Ganymede?”
“My lord?”
“Make her come. Show her the error of her assumptions.”
Hera’s eyes widened, the whites of her eyes rolling sideways to glare at her husband. “No!” She shoved me, hard, hands and feet together in a concerted effort to rid herself of me entirely, very likely hoping to propel me right out the palace window. Not that I’d be the first she’d get rid of that way.
            Zeus placed a strong hand on her leg, right above the knee, but ignored her and looked into my eyes, tilting my chin up and turning my face to his. “For me. Prove to her what no words, least of all mine, could have said in your defense. Let her realize your worth and our bond for herself.” Leaving his hand on her leg, stilling her movements, he took a small step back. Like a wolf stalking its prey, head lowered, eyes unwavering, lips drawn back faintly, he trailed his palm across Hera’s sleek skin. He skimmed over her thigh, dipping momentarily into the soft, dark hair hiding her feminine secrets, up her stomach, into her bellybutton, around one breast, then to the other. Lifting her breast, plumping it, he used his rough, calloused thumb to pebble her nipple and make her moan. The moan became a whimper when he offered his wife’s breast to me. I latched on, a little teeth, and sucked hard again and again. My tongue traced her hardened nipple with each suck. I felt her feet relax in the crux of my elbow and took the opportunity to begin moving inside her. With her legs lifted so high, she had no way to control my motions. I took full advantage. Tilting my hips, I caressed the upper side of her inner womb with the mushroomed head of my stiff cock. She came in a torrent. Body shaking, breath heavy, womb quivering. She yelled out, but Zeus’ hand was quick to cover her mouth. As she recovered, Zeus and I shared a passionate kiss.
            “Again.” Reaching to the sheet crumpled on the edge of the bed, he ripped it into three lengths. Zeus didn’t make eye contact with either of us as he used one scrap to gag his wife and the other two to tie her hands above her head to a beam under the bed. “I gave you an order, boy!”
His voice was deep with desire and cruel with passion. Though Hera had already come, I was still incredibly hard. Pulling free of her cunt with a wet pop, I shifted one of my own hands down between our bodies. The effort dropped my weight onto her; her crushed breasts tickled my own puckered nipples and I couldn’t resist shimmying just a bit, making us both giggle with suppressed arousal. That giggle was short-lived as I found her clit and used my fingertips to massage the little bud. A pinch, a tickle, a bit of rough pressure, and a flick; Hera was mine to dominate. She tried to fight the building awakening of her every nerve ending and the rush of need gathering in her womb. In vain, she writhed beneath me. The action borne of frustration racketed up both our cravings. Removing my hand, I hauled my body up from hers, felt Zeus’ hands on her ass cheeks encourage and spread her wider for my penetration and took the reluctant queen towards another orgasm.
“Oh, gods!” Her echoing scream died a slow death in the small room.
“You are mine Ganymede. Take Hera again, fill her.” Sweeter words, I had never heard. My cock was throbbing, aching, and punishing me for holding back. At last, I was given permission to find my own relief.
Zeus mounted the bed, it croaked under our combined weight but held. While Hera’s limp body offered no resistance at all, I was slowly slipping in and out of her damp womb, taking her along for my final ride. As I rode the used mistress of Olympus, Zeus, its master, took his cock in hand and pushed through my tight bud’s barrier. The growl which ripped itself from my throat only drove Zeus and I both deeper. He withdrew his incredible length almost to the head, then plunged back in; I did the same, under his guidance, to his wife. With Zeus’ sweat-slickened, duskily haired chest to my back and Hera’s blushing nipples to my chest, I was finally fully welcomed to Olympus.


I spent the remainder of immortality pouring out Zeus’ wine during the day and his divine nectar each night. Sometimes Hera deigned to join us…